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It is not my fault that certain so-called bohemian elements have found in my writings something to hang their peculiar beatnik theories on.
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The fact was I had the vision... I think everyone has... what we lack is the method.
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The only people for me are the mad ones. The ones who are mad to love, mad to talk, mad to be saved the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.
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I don't know, I don't care, and it doesn't make any difference!
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The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved...the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.
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